


you're my only compass (i might get lost without you)

by ShipperTrash140109



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Falling In Love, Kinda, Love at First Sight, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, a little dork with a big crush, alex is a good wingman, kind of, tommy is a scared gay boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 11:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: Tommy hoped cold, desperate and down in his luck was universal, because he swore if he had to knock on any more doors, he’d just take his chances and sleep under a bridge.The door slowly opened, whoever was inside likely eyeing Tommy up before finally opening it, there stood a young man, high-cheekbones, a mop of curly dark hair, and ridiculously pretty hazel eyes. Tommy was quick to break himself out of thought, clearing his throat “uh, cold? I’m lost, d-désorienté?” he stated, regretting coming to France of all places when he knows little to no actual French.akatommy needs help, philippe is a knight in shining armour, and tommy gets a big ol crush





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow, what's this?? a dunkirk fic of mine that isn't crack?? wow!
> 
> this is dedicated to wonston chortle, because they're pretty cool over there, and i need to pay my rego to taylor drawing amazing art
> 
> i can't remember if this is beta read or not, but even if it isn't, it's still better than my crackfic bs

Tommy hoped cold, desperate and down in his luck was universal, because he swore if he had to knock on any more doors, he’d just take his chances and sleep under a bridge.

The door slowly opened, whoever was inside likely eyeing Tommy up before finally opening it, there stood a young man, high-cheekbones, a mop of curly dark hair, and ridiculously pretty hazel eyes. Tommy was quick to break himself out of thought, clearing his throat “uh, cold? I’m lost, d-désorienté?” he stated, regretting coming to France of all places when he knows little to no actual French.

The man gave him a once over, clenching and unclenching his jaw a couple times, processing, considering, before he nodded, a tentative smile dimpling his cheeks before he moves out of the door frame, beckoning Tommy in. The British man sighed in relief, chilled to the bone and about to cry at the stranger’s kindness “merci, merci” he chattered, placing his coat on a hook the man pointed at.

They paused after that, the stranger tapping his chest “Philippe” he stated, Tommy repeating the name, a fuzzy feeling forming in his chest as he watched the Frenchmen’s eyes light up, a little smile forming on his face. Tommy introduced himself, unable to control the chuckle that escaped him as Philippe repeated, such a British name sounded amusingly warped rolling off the other’s tongue. Introductions completed, Philippe tapped his elbow, moving them onwards.

He led Tommy from one small room to another, and that’s when the cold boys’ eyes fell upon a single, fairly small bed, he looked to the other man and felt a stab of guilt when he saw how embarrassed the man was. “Pardon” he mumbled, before holding up an index finger, there was only one bed.

Tommy, however, had slept rough before and he gestured to the floor next to the bed, then to himself, “floor is fine- bien” he said shakily, hoping either the words or the hand gestures got through. Well, something must have, because now the man was shaking his head insistently, pointing to the bed.

It all became clear in another moment, the Frenchmen pointed out the window where the rain poured “non, c-cold” he stammered, the English sounding strange covered in such a thick accent, not that Tommy minded, he probably sounded just as foolish trying to utilize his schoolyard French. He wasn’t so sure about sharing a bed- two blokes couldn’t exactly get away with that kinda thing, but Philippe was insistent, and Tommy couldn’t disagree that sleeping on the floor would be horrible, so, he supposed he had to swallow his nerves and agree.

The man provided Tommy with some clothes, and despite the fact that they hung off his frame, they were perfect for the time being. This Philippe guy had to be the nicest person Tommy had ever met, even though they’d exchanged few words, and known each other a whopping half hour, but, the younger man supposed they’d better become friends as soon as possible, considering tonight they’d be sharing a bed. A concept that Tommy found himself uncomfortable about for all the wrong reasons- not only was Philippe nice, he was also one of the gorgeous people France was apparently known for, and Tommy hoped to be out of here as soon as possible purely for the reason that he wouldn’t have the chance to accidentally mess up and let something slip. He didn’t want to be chased back out into that rain by this nice bloke shouting French abuse at him.

Tommy passed on the offer for dinner, he’d managed to score something at a pub with the little money he’d kept on him (if only the food had been worth getting lost- Alex had been a bastard to leave him there in favour of a pretty French bird). After dinner, Philippe had told him to ‘make self home’ before sitting down and starting a letter. Tommy, feeling a little nervous and uncomfortable, had gestured to the bedroom, figuring that if he could sleep now, he wouldn’t have to deal with being awake when Philippe…joins him. The Brit slipped into the room, pausing in the doorway to stare at the bed, it looked mockingly small all of a sudden- Philippe wasn’t like Tommy, he was broad-shouldered and well-built, even with the brunet being a lanky sod, there wouldn’t be much room. Something also told Tommy that the Frenchmen was a ‘huddle for warmth’ kinda guy.

He settled into the bed, it was a bit firm, but compared to a cold, wet sidewalk, it felt like heaven, he could hear Philippe mumbling to himself from the next room over, and he swallowed thickly, pressing himself close to the wall. He’d thought for a moment that sleep would evade him, but then he was pulling the blankets to his chin, and his exhaustion hit him like a brick wall.

Some time later, he was woken to the feeling of movement beside him, and the brunet cursed himself to all hell as he realised it would be Philippe. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, back tingling as the mattress dipped and he felt a knee brush his lower back, then an arm against his shoulders, every point of contact like a little shock through him. He hated his damn brain for being such a light sleeper, and he hated it for filling his brain with less than ideal thoughts.

Eventually, Philippe stopped shuffling, he must have been on his back, because Tommy could feel an arm laying along the length of his spine, down towards the foot of the bed, their ankles knocked, and the younger man tried his best ‘escape with raising suspicion’ and somehow, it worked. But then, he decided to start shaking, likely thanks to how tensed up he was trying to keep himself as far from the other man- other _attractive_ man. Philippe must have noticed his shaking, and unluckily for Tommy’s mental state, the Frenchmen wasted no time in rolling onto his side and pressing up against the brunet. For warmth.

Tommy breathed slowly through his teeth, he could feel everything, and he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep at all at this rate. Not when he could feel Philippe’s chest against his back, his arm hanging over his waist so nonchalantly.

God, Tommy hated the French and their shameless care for others wellbeing, it was such an inconvenience.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if this is beta read or not either, but it's also still better than my crackfic

Tommy sleeps fitfully in the small bed (if you can even call it sleep), every single shuffle and jolt from Philippe enough to have him wide awake all over again, luckily the younger man has been able to slowly edge the other off him over the course of the night, so now they’re not completely pressed together from head to toe. It’s not that Tommy doesn’t appreciate the other caring about him, but the brunet knows himself, knows that he really shouldn’t let himself look into anything.

And, well, that was kind of difficult when they were practically spooning.

By the time the sun drags itself up into the sky, and the squall outside reduces to a lazy drizzle, Tommy is half conscious, eyelids full of lead and gravelly as all hell, blinking is a struggle, and he’s practically begging for sleep, the only thing stopping him a large hand rested atop his hip. His skin is tingling and crawling under the Frenchman’s fingers, and Tommy is fighting off passing out as he tries to slowly shake it off. If only Philippe could just wake up and leave him to catch a quick nap in peace.

He’s not exactly looking forward to leaving, and he’s not entirely sure why, yeah sure, Alex isn’t the best company, and he did abandon Tommy in a pub with no way to either find his way back to where they were staying- or if he did, to even get in. But Tommy is pretty sure he’d be better off with his trash mate then with this overcompassionate stranger.

The brunet groans, rolling onto his back and then quickly rolling onto his side again when the hand that had previously been on his hip slides to sitting very low on his stomach (Tommy had been alone far too long to be able to deal with something like that). He was just about ready to make a run for it when he heard Philippe make a low noise of confusion from beside him, the younger man quick to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend to be asleep as the Frenchman sat up, swinging his legs off the bed, pausing for a moment, before he started off into the next room over. Leaving Tommy mercifully alone and free to try and catch a power nap before he had to do his best to escape this place.

Lord knows how much time passes before Tommy is jolted awake by a tap on the shoulder, the Brit almost jumping out of his skin before he realizes it’s just Philippe, a steaming mug of what he assumed was coffee in his hand now offered to the drowsy brunet. “Uh, merci…pardon, I-I’ll go soon” Tommy stammered, gesticulating with his free hand as he wiggled carefully into a sitting position.

Philippe waved a hand, shaking his head briefly, “no…rush” he managed, offering a kind little smile that made Tommy look to his coffee and take a long sip to avoid staring (a difficult task mostly because the coffee is much too strong and leaves Tommy ready to gag). The dark-haired man rubs his hands together “un moment” he excused, disappearing out the room and leaving the younger man to awkwardly shuffle to the edge of the bed, rubbing at his still aching eyes. When Philippe returns, he’s holding Tommy’s previously drenched clothes “là” he states, placing them next to the Brit, standing there a moment with a pleased little grin, before he realizes what he should be doing, making a noise of realization, mumbling his apologies as he slips out the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Tommy bites his lip, placing the mug down on the small nightstand before changing out of the too-big, Philippe smelling clothes he’d borrowed. His coat and pants were cold, quite cold actually, maybe just recently dried, but they don’t make his head spin with the scent of a French beauty, so he supposed it was an upgrade in that aspect.

He takes a moment to prepare himself before he makes his way out of the room, leaving Philippe’s clothes folded nicely on the bed before hesitantly moving towards the small loungeroom. He’s ready to just quietly say goodbye and try and navigate the way himself when suddenly Philippe is cutting in front of him, blocking him from the door, “non, wait! petit déjeuner?” he asks, sounding a little desperate if Tommy was honest (why though, he wasn’t sure). The Englishman stutters, not exactly understanding whatever words just came out of the other’s mouth, that was, before Philippe nodded towards something behind him. When Tommy turned he realized that this annoyingly perfect man had actually made them breakfast. Oh dear, it seemed he may never leave.

“Uhh I should- I need to…alright, oui” then they’re heading towards the cosy kitchen- Tommy had been prepared to put up more of a fight, up until he saw the food and realized how hungry he was, after that there’d been no chance that he’d be able to say no. So, they sit down, and Tommy tries his best not to act like a starved animal as he eats, a part of him wanting to eat quicker just so he can leave quicker without discovering anymore perfections in the man across from him.

But even once he’s done and has thanked the Frenchman more times than he can count, he doesn’t even get to brush the door handle before Philippe is squeezing himself in the space between Tommy and the door. “Directions?” he asks, voice hopeful, and the brunet sighs, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and struggling to not acknowledge the fact that he can feel Philippe staring as he considers his options.

He supposed getting help is a better choice than just crossing fingers and hoping everything works out. “Okay, oui, merci” Tommy mumbles, swallowing a lump in his throat that forms upon seeing the relief wash over Philippe’s face, the man quick to rush away to grab himself a coat and any essentials before he’s dragging Tommy out the door.

“Uh, I was at a pub- une taverne? Near a fountain” Tommy explained, making wild hand gestures as he says ‘fountain’ and Philippe looks confused a moment, before he figures it out, making a noise of understanding, nodding and grasping the younger man’s elbow, leading him up the street. Tommy is a bit cagey about being dragged like he is, but he trusts the local to know his way around, and so decides not to complain. Also, because the other’s hand is warm and firm around his arm and if he’s completely honest; he kinda really likes it.

“Near…uh, librairie et magasin general?” Philippe asks, pausing, Tommy taking a moment to try and translate the words, before nodding, yea, a book shop near a pub, he remembers thinking that’s a little weird. “Ah, je sais où” he mumbles to himself, and the brunet frowns, he has no idea what the older man is saying.

“Yes, sure” he whispers to himself as they start moving again, and after a couple of turns, his eyes fall upon the pub, and more interestingly, Alex, walking around hassling poor innocent French pedestrians. When Alex’s eyes eventually drift across them, he furrows his brow, pursing his lips as he looks up over Philippe and then to Tommy, raising an eyebrow as if to say, ‘who the bloody hell is this nice drink of water?’

Tommy tapped at Philippe’s hand until the Frenchman stopped and turned to look at him, “mon amie” he stated, nodding to Alex, who was still staring a ridiculous amount at the Frenchman, triggering a hot, sticky feeling inside Tommy’s veins. “Merci, merci” the Brit stammered, now feeling a little unfortunate to be parting ways, and he hypes himself up a moment, steeling himself, before he leans in and does it- he hugs Philippe, it’s quick and a little shocking for the both of them, but it leaves Tommy feeling the best kind of giddy as he jogs towards Alex, the taller male now looking well and truly gobsmacked.

“Thank god I found you, been lookin’ around all morning, but more importantly, who the bloody hell is that? Tommy you little minx, I knew you had it in ya” Alex chuckled, watching the Frenchman slowly make his way back towards his home. A buzz of anger surfaced in Tommy’s chest.

“He is the person I had to crash with last night because you were too busy abandoning me to get your end wet! So, I got lost, and I had to either stay with him, or get hypothermia under some bridge somewhere” Tommy explained, voice loud and angry, and when Alex watched with a neutral expression, the younger man wanted to smack him across the face.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that, but don’t you realise the opportunity you’ve just given yourself? You gotta see him again Tommy, he’s, as the folk here say… _magnifique”_ Alex pointed out, tapping Tommy on the shoulder, encouraging him to heed more of the highlander’s stupid advice.

“He’s not-I can’t…I hate you, Alex” the brunet stammered, rubbing a hand over his face, he was going to go back anyway with something to give to Philippe as a thank you gift. But now that Alex had opened his big stupid mouth, even that sounded like a loaded concept.

Alex sighed, directing Tommy towards what he assumed was their hotel “don’t worry, sweet Tommy, you’ll thank me later when you’re skipping through Paris hand in hand with your gorgeous mon amour.”

Tommy seriously doubted that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was beta read, so it should be a bit better than the other two
> 
> also this is really fast burn but idc, take it up with my lawyer

“I have to thank him”

“Go find him and fuck him, that’s thanks enough in my opinion”

Tommy groaned, this was the fifth bloody time Alex had said that, and it wasn’t helping at all. Ever since the Brit had returned from his little French sleepover, Philippe had been gnawing at his mind, and it had been driving Tommy crazy. He knew he should somehow track down the Frenchman, thank him for being so kind to him, for looking after him when he was in need, but then there was the issue of whether or not he’d be able to control himself. That man really was as Alex called him ‘everything good about France.’

“Alex, I can’t do that, and you’re not helping at all, I should get him something” Tommy sighs, eyeing off some of the quaint storefronts as they make their way around town, they didn’t have much to do today, so they’d most likely spend the morning wandering.

“You should get him a ticket to between your legs!” Alex exclaimed like it was something as mundane as asking a neighbour for a cup of sugar. Tommy’s eyes went wide, and he moved to smack a hand over Alex’s mouth as they pass a family, the brunet hissing at him to shut up. Once they were past the family, he released his ‘mate.’ “I’m sorry, but I don’t see why you’re being so prudish about this! You’ve already shared a bed with the bloke, just do it again naked and you’re all good! He’s French, they’re always down to clown, believe me” the older man explained, chuckling at the end and brushing non-existent dust off his shoulder.

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes, it is! We’re leaving next week, if things go to shit, you never have to see him again!” they were bordering on an argument when Alex had to go and make an annoyingly valid point. They fell silent a moment, trudging up along the French streets, Tommy sulking and mulling over the other mans words, he did have a point. Philippe certainly didn’t hold any qualms over sharing a bed with an unfamiliar man, and he did seem ever so hesitant to let the brunet leave (though that may have been standard run of the mill loneliness). Tommy supposed he could give it a try anyway- try and find his way back with a little gift, lay it on thick and hope he gets something thick laid in him in return, Tommy cringed at the thought, he’d have to work on the wording of his plan before sharing it with anyone.

“Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have a point, and I think I’m going to do just that, but! If this ends really shittily, then you can take full responsibility!” Tommy stated, a rush of nerves buzzing up through him, and he felt his heart shake at the thought of seeing the pretty Frenchman again. At hearing this Alex cheered, finally his ‘genius’ was being recognized.

“That’s the spirit, Tommy! Now, we’re gonna find a nice little thank you gift, and then you can find your way there and get yourself a French baguette” Tommy swore he almost smacked Alex, his cheeks heating up, honestly, how did he deal with this guy?

Despite Alex being a shoddy companion and a worse wingman, they did manage to spend most of the morning looking around for something satisfactory for a thank you gift- Alex kept trying to buy different types of French bread, but eventually Tommy managed to fight him off long enough to get his hands on some fancy looking French wine. It took a great chunk of the cash he had, but he found he didn’t really care, in his mind it was a small price to pay for being saved from hypothermia.

“Alright, you’ll show up, you’ll bat your pretty eyelashes at him, you’ll hand the wine over, he’ll thank you, and then you’ll say ‘also, I got you this’ and then you kiss him, and you have mind-blowing exotic sex that you’ll then tell all the details of to your amazing friend Alex!”

Tommy rounded on the brunet, brows furrowed, “really, Alex? You’re insufferable, I hate that you’re my ideas man” he huffed as they head towards the pub that had gotten them in this whole situation in the first place. The dark-haired man could feel his stomach churn with anticipation, he knew the odds of this actually working were slim, but like Alex said, they’d be going back to London soon anyway. They fell silent a moment, before Tommy hummed “how do you even say ‘also got you this’ in French? Like I feel that the language barrier might somehow fuck this all up.”

“Uhhh, 'arrêtez de venir ici, je ne vous aime pas'?” Alex offered, most likely going off of his personal experiences whilst visiting France, but Tommy wasn’t convinced, he supposed he’d just have to make do with what he already knew.

Clutching the wine- the precious, expensive wine, they began to retrace Tommy’s steps from the day before. “He was so nice, y’know? Like he could hardly understand a word of what I was saying, but he let me in anyway, even if we don’t… I still want to make sure he knows I’m grateful.” Tommy wasn’t sure why he was splurging his sentiments to Alex, but he was, and just recalling the events made his heart flutter, and soon he couldn’t stop more words from falling free from his mouth. “You saw him, he’s gorgeous, how does France even make someone that looks like that? I find it almost inconceivable that he doesn’t have a partner- well, not one that I know of anyway. I mean, look at him! I’ve never seen someone who looks like that, I had to sleep with that pressed up against me, I almost died, Alex” he continued, his head spinning with _Philippe, Philippe, Philippe._

“Alright, alright, how about you steady up and focus on where we’re going so we don’t get lost…but who knows, if we get lost, we might find another French beauty” Alex ordered, but Tommy didn’t like how interested he became in getting lost the longer he spoke, and the shorter man swallowed thickly, grasping Alex’s elbow and dragging him along. The neighbourhood was fresh in his mind, and he didn’t find navigating the streets all that hard- little had changed since yesterday, and before long he knew almost exactly where he was going.

The two came to a stop outside a small house, Tommy’s eyes scanning over it carefully, it looked like the right house, but he still felt hesitant to take that step closer. “This it?” Alex asked, pulling his elbow free from his mates grip. Nodding, Tommy drew in a long, slow breath, he was nervous- really bloody nervous.

“Alright, push me”

“What?”

“Push me towards the door Alex!” Tommy repeated, because he knew that otherwise he wouldn’t do it, his nerves and overthinking would get the better of him and he would back out. Then, there was a strong hand shoving into the middle of his back, sending the shorter man stumbling forward until he almost tripped over his own feet, and despite nearly wiping out, he was now stood right in front of the door. Swallowing thickly, Tommy paused to look back at Alex, who was throwing him a thumbs up, before he let his knuckles tap cautiously against the door.

The seconds passed almost painfully slowly, what if he was out? What if Tommy had missed him? Should he just turn tail and run away, forever thinking of the pretty man with green eyes and dark hair?

Nope, because now the door was swinging open, and there he stood. For a moment, Tommy all but forgot how to speak, all he could do was hold the wine out in front of him and force out a stammered ‘merci.’ He could feel Philippe’s eyes on him, could feel the surprise in the air between them, then, when he finally found the courage to look at the other man, he felt his heart roil in his chest. The Frenchman looked amused, but he wore such a genuine smile that the Brit couldn’t bring himself to feel condescended- he could hear Alex’s earlier instructions echo around his head.

_then you’ll say ‘also, I got you this’ and then you kiss him_

_‘also, I got you this’_

_and then you kiss him_

_you kiss him_

_kiss him_

_kiss_

_YES, ALRIGHT OKAY ALEX,_ Tommy internally shouted, until he was suddenly leaning forward, moving closer and closer until finally their lips touched, though it was only a second, Tommy barely able to register anything, before he was pulling back, horrified with himself. “Pardon, pardon- l' accident” he stuttered, eyes falling to the floor as he started to back up, trying to subtly run for his life and disappear back to England so he never has to embarrass himself like this again.

But then, somehow, he overhears Philippe over the chaos knocking around in his head “non! pas d'accident” he pressed, and then there’s a hand against Tommy’s arm, softly pulling him in, but the Brit still can’t look at him, he must seem like such a fool. He was waiting for the Frenchman to laugh at him, maybe say it was okay, they can have tea as friends or something like that.

Except none of that happened, instead Philippe shuts the door behind him, before brushing his thumb and index finger against downturned chin, tipping up until the red-cheeked younger man has no choice but to meet focused green eyes. “Pas d’accident” he mumbles, accent sending shivers up Tommy’s back, skin crawling under his gaze, _no accident_ and it’s happening again, they’re kissing, and it’s longer this time, the two men taking the time to test the waters, to figure out if they kind of like it.

They do, and Tommy is breathing a sigh of relief against insistent lips, he can hear the clang of the wine being put down, before there are hands against his hips, hesitant and gentle, as if expecting the Brit to say ‘no’ any minute. But he isn’t, he couldn’t, the Frenchman is almost intoxicating, and Tommy takes great joy in sliding fingers into that thick tangle of dark hair a top his head.

Tommy had worried it may feel strange, handing himself over to a man he didn’t know, had only met once because he was cold and lost, but standing there kissing so softly like they were, a cautious swipe of tongue over his bottom lip, asking politely- always politely, he can only call it perfect. They pull apart when their lungs start to ache, and when he meets Philippe’s eyes, he feels a rush of something fuzzy in his chest.

“Philippe” he breaths, and when the other whispers his name back, Tommy bites his lip, inching forward, chests brushing, “please” he mumbles, before pressing their mouths together again, this time a little desperately so, trying to get through all the feelings he couldn’t speak in words they could understand. He needs this, he needs to do this before he goes, he could feel it in himself, how much he was drawn to the other, how desperate Philippe had been to stay with him yesterday, to not pursue this would be an injustice to both of them.

The tone has shifted, and now they’re moving, hands scraping at clothes and feet shuffling through the small house. Tommy’s chest quakes with excitement as he wiggles his jacket off, letting Philippe manhandle him into the bedroom- to the bed that they’d shared only a day previous. He recalls how the older man felt against him and it sends a shock of heat through him, he needs to get these layers off.

As soon as his back hits the mattress, he’s being blanketed by broad shoulders and firm torso, Philippe is a welcomed weight on top of him, and as his boxers are pulled from his legs, all he can feel is an overpowering ache to be closer- as close as possible. His arms find their way around the others neck, fingers digging into firm shoulders, meanwhile, their mouths haven’t parted, insistent and needy and so damn distracting that Tommy almost doesn’t hear the shuffle of Philippe rifling through his small nightstand.

He knows it’s coming, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when he at last feels a slick finger running over his entrance, pushing but not sliding in, more of a warning, a silent request for permission- permission that Tommy grants with an eager nod and a noise that he would find embarrassing if he weren’t so desperate. When it finally slides in in one smooth motion, Tommy is left breathless, back arching up and legs flying to hook around Philippe’s hips. There’s a pair of soft lips against his neck as he’s stretched out, each perfect curl and flex making him almost dizzy with ecstasy, the older man has most certainly done this before.

Philippe shifts, and now Tommy understands why they’re only just onto the second finger, even after a few long minutes- he’s big, at least compared to what the Brit has had in the past (on those rare occasions) and for a moment, a curl of anxiety forms in the pit of his stomach, this might actually hurt.

But the Frenchman doesn’t rush anything- he opens him up nice and slow, curling and pushing until Tommy is flushed red from head to toe and biting down on his own fist to muffle his pleasure. By the time they reach the third, the brunet is a shaking mess, and he can feel his cock laying hot and leaking against his stomach, he wants to touch so bad, but he can’t stand the thought of looking anymore desperate in front of Philippe, so he grips the others shoulders until his knuckles turn a shocking white colour, and begs to everything good in this world that sweet, patient Philippe hurries his perfect arse up.

Then there’s nothing, and he almost cries out, hips bucking up desperate for anything-everything. He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels slick fingers brush up along his inner thigh, dragging up until Philippe can wrap his hands around a knee, holding Tommy still- lining him up. Teeth dig into the younger mans lip as he waits, pathetic little mewls slipping free as he feels something that definitely isn’t a finger brush against him, until finally, there’s a long breath escaping Philippe and he’s pushing in, tearing a gasp from Tommy.

Legs fall open and it almost feels like years before the Frenchman has bottomed out, buried to the hilt and pressed completely up against the man underneath him. Tommy is shaking as he adjusts, and he takes solace in the soft press of Philippe’s lips to his, quiet words of French praise whispered against him. His chest heaves with every breath as he tries to remain relaxed, a feat that proves to be harder than it sounds, he can hear Philippe hush him, a hand grasping one of Tommy’s, lacing their fingers together against the mattress, the Brit using the hold to ground himself.

Once the sting ebbs and Tommy is about as comfortable as he thinks he can get, he starts bucking his hips, wriggling and begging Philippe using the little French he knew. The man on top of him spares a chuckle at the brunets desperation, but after sharing a quick kiss, he gives the first short move of his hips- a move that has Tommy gasping for breath, a moan ripping free from his throat. It’s this sound that encourages Philippe to keep going, and he soon falls into a measured, careful pace.

Usually Tommy prefers it rougher, but Philippe really knows how to work his hips- a trait too few men have, so he doesn’t complain, because every roll, ever thrust, is perfect, almost frustratingly so- each movement pressing hard into all the right places and leaving Tommy a moaning, whining mess underneath him. Nails dig into broad shoulders, and he revels in the thought of leaving such a mark on this flawless man, fracturing the perfection, even if just for only a day or two.

"Bon garçon" Philippe huffs against his cheek, straining to bite back a groan as his hips snap, the movements growing heavier as his climax starts to build. Tommy has no clue what the other has said, but to just hear his accent so muffled by heavy breath and pleasureful sounds is enough to drive him dizzy with arousal.

Tommy’s brain has stopped working by this point, and all he can say is ‘Philippe, yes Philippe’ over and over again, and when there’s suddenly a hand around his aching cock, he almost cries out, his pelvis throbbing as it builds and builds with pressure, he’s close- horrendously close. Bucking up into Philippe’s hand, desperately chasing his release, his mind blanking and mouth falling open.

Then his body turns rigid, his back arching up, tense and shaking as he comes with a shout, dots filling his vision as he covers his stomach and the other mans hand with his spend. His chest is heaving, and then Philippe is groaning, the Englishman clenching around him as he continues to move into him, pace wavering and turning erratic as he himself gets closer and closer.

“Tommy, putain oui” just to hear his name slip from Philippe’s lips in such a scandalous tone would be enough to get him going again if he wasn’t so exhausted.

“Come on, Philippe, come on” Tommy breathes, voice ruined and quiet as he captures the dark-haired mans lips in a kiss, teeth grazing full bottom lip, and it’s as he tugs on it that the man above him finally comes undone, breathing hot and heavy against Tommy’s lips, barely able to stop a harsh groan as he empties deep inside him, hips stuttering as he fucks through his orgasm until he can no longer hold himself up.

He falls half on top of Tommy, and the younger man has to be careful about shuffling himself so that he doesn’t fall off the small bed. Once they’re a bit more comfortable, they both lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow of what they’d just done, Tommy can’t believe it- he’s pulled an Alex, he’s slept with someone he barely knew, this trip was full of surprises.

Looking around the room, he’s not sure what to do- does he leave? Does he wait till morning to leave? It’s not like they were together or anything… but that had felt so special, like it was so much more than a fuck with a stranger. Tommy furrowed his brow- it should stay that way, he was leaving soon, getting attached would do nobody good.

But, as he moved to get up, there was a firm grasp on his wrist suddenly, and then as he turned to look at the Frenchman, he met pleading eyes, and a soft voice that he could never say no to, “stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on my [tumblr](https://hardleeharlee.tumblr.com/)


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